


just like heaven

by fivespice



Category: Big Bang (Band), GTOP (Band), K-pop
Genre: Fluff, Ghosts, Humor, M/M, Slice of Life, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 03:12:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9104173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fivespice/pseuds/fivespice
Summary: Seunghyun is a lonely (and ostensibly straight) art gallery owner who decides to buy an old house in the countryside outside Seoul. The house was such a good price--who cares that the last 3 owners each claimed it was haunted? He doesn't believe in that shit. Enter: Ghost!Jiyong, a gorgeous, sexually adventurous specter who delights in tormenting his handsome new housemate.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the crazy amounts of canon!gtop during this comeback. I love it when a ship sails itself. Also inspired by nice furniture that’s way out of my price range. Title from: The Cure -- Just Like Heaven (You -- soft and only / You -- lost and lonely / You -- strange as angels / Dancing in the deepest oceans / Twisting in the water / You're just like a dream).
> 
> Trying Twitter [@_fivespice](https://twitter.com/_fivespice) (aka posting gtop nonstop). Crossposted to [AFF](http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1208828/just-like-heaven-fluff-gdragon-ghosts-gtop-top-humor).

Seunghyun could feel the sweat sticking his white button down to his skin. The oppressive, crawling humidity of late summer had set in with an almost menacing fervor this week, but, genius that he was, he’d decided to move himself into his new house anyway. 

 

“Fuck,” he muttered, wiping his damp forehead with his equally damp shirt sleeve in an entirely futile gesture. He glanced through the enormous front windows, out past the winding gravel drive and towards the line of poplar trees in the distance that hid the house from the street. He checked to see if anyone was around out of habit, even though he knew that it was highly unlikely out here. The house he’d purchased on a whim last month was at least two kilometers from its nearest neighbors on either side--that was why he’d bought it, after all. 

 

Satisfied that nobody was nearby, Seunghyun swiftly unbuttoned his shirt and whipped it off his head. He could feel sweat gathering in the valley of his spine, trickling unpleasantly into the hollow of his back. Making a disgusted noise, he wiped at his torso as best he could, then threw the shirt onto the sleek, low-backed Le Corbusier sofa he’d unpacked earlier that morning. It had been his first major splurge after he acquired the gallery in Apgujeong, and it was a serene, clean little oasis in the midst of an ocean of discarded boxes, enormous dust bunnies, and haphazardly stacked books. 

 

Sighing, Seunghyun cracked his knuckles, and wearily set a ladder just underneath the empty hole in the ceiling where a decidedly ugly ceiling fan used to hang. He deeply regretted not taking up Daesung’s offer to come out for a few days and help him move in, but he’d had this stupid fantasy of spending his first night in the house in absolute peace and silence, enjoying the contrast from his apartment in Gangnam. And now he was stuck in the middle of nowhere with three dozen half unpacked boxes and a backache.

 

Grabbing the Nelson pendant lamp he’d purchased for the living room, Seunghyun set to the rather precarious task of climbing the ladder while hanging on to the light fixture. If he didn’t get this thing set up, he’d be spending the night in the dark, since he’d managed to forget to buy candles.

 

Craning his head up, his neck at an uncomfortable angle, he squinted at the tangle of wires dangling out of the ceiling. He vaguely remembered setting up his own recessed lighting years ago at the gallery--it couldn’t be  _ that _ different. Bracing himself on the ladder, he lifted the lamp in both hands and reached up to screw it in.

 

The next thing he knew, the lamp was hitting the floor with an almighty  _ crash! _ and he was falling through the air. Before he could even gather the wits to scream, all of the air in his lungs whooshed out as his back slammed onto something firm--but much more cushioned than the stripped wood floors he’d expected.

 

Confused, he blinked up at the ceiling, instinctively placing one hand over his racing heart, the other reaching out to feel at what could only be his sofa. How--how was that possible? He had somehow managed to land  _ on his sofa _ . A sofa that was halfway across the room thirty seconds ago. 

 

Slowly, he sat up, glancing wildly about the big, musty room. There was nobody there.

 

“Hello?” he called out, his voice cracking a bit in the middle. No response.

 

He cringed at how stupid he was being, and shut his eyes, slumping down on the sofa. Of course there was no one there. It was just the heat and weariness getting to him. He must’ve shifted the sofa earlier and forgotten about it.

 

He specifically did  _ not _ think about the fact that the last three owners had abandoned this very house because--they said--it was haunted.

 

Seunghyun was too old and tired to believe in ghosts.

 

He got to his feet, and grimaced at the mess on the floor. The lamp was badly dented, and the delicate metal framework inside was broken into several pieces. It was definitely unuseable. Looked like he would be spending the night in the dark after all.

 

He trashed the lamp, and half-heartedly searched through his boxes for any other possible light source. He’d left most of his furniture in the Gangnam apartment for his renters, including all of his lamps. There wasn’t so much as a flashlight, and it would be evening in an hour at most.

 

Cursing himself, he dropped down to the floor and lit up a cigarette. He rested his chin on his knees, smoking slowly, one cigarette after another, as he looked out the windows. They faced west, and he could watch the sun slip lower and lower, until the light in the room had shifted to a murky purple-red. It sent the poplar trees into long, distorted shadows, like fingers reaching out to curl around the house.

 

At least the sun was taking the heat with it. Gradually, gradually, the air became less and less heavy, and early evening settled over the house with a gentle huff of cool air. Seunghyun could feel his sweat drying on his skin, gooseflesh prickling up all over his body as the temperature dropped.

 

Just as the sun was finally slipping below the horizon, as Seunghyun was finishing the last cigarette in the pack, a small light flicked on in the corner of his eye.

 

Startled, he whipped around.

 

The Nelson lamp was sitting on the floor a few meters away, looking brand new. A light bulb was screwed in, and it was giving off a gentle, weak glow--without being attached to any source of electricity.

 

“I thought you would prefer some light. It gets really dark out here.”

 

Seunghyun yelped, scrambling to turn back around, eyes casting wildly about for the source of the voice. His heartbeat was accelerating, pounding in his ears, and the gooseflesh on his skin intensified, until he felt as if his entire body was prickling.

 

“I’m over here.”

 

Seunghyun slammed his eyes shut. “Jesus Christ, I’m fucking hallucinating now.” He rubbed at his arms desperately, trying to stave off sudden hysteria, and refused to turn towards the sofa--towards the voice. “I’m hallucinating, and it’ll all go away in a minute. Once I calm down.”

 

“You’re not hallucinating, ahjussi.”

 

_ Ahjussi _ ?

 

Seunghyun’s eyes were open before he knew it, and he craned his neck to glare towards the sofa. “I’m  _ not  _ an ahjussi.”

 

There, perched delicately on one of the narrow sofa arms, was a boy. He was slender, almost waifish, and dressed in a tight white tee and faded jeans. Seunghyun could just spot small, bare feet peeking out from beneath the hems, toes curled up against the sofa’s fabric. The boy’s entire body was extremely pale, but solid, without any hint of translucence. Neither was he glowing, or anything else Seunghyun had heard about in ghost stories. 

 

In fact, the only thing that looked even vaguely otherworldly about the boy was his cloud of blue and pink hair, which poofed out to tousle over a narrow, sharp little face--a face which was currently smirking right at Seunghyun.

 

“You certainly dress like an ahjussi.”

 

Seunghyun did his level best not to startle again. And not to think too hard about what the hell was going on. “I do not. These pants are Tom Ford.”

 

The boy shrugged his thin shoulders, and shook his head. Pale, pastel hair poofed out even more around his face. “Then you’re an ahjussi in Tom Ford.” He shifted, rolling off the arm of the sofa to plop down on the cushions. He drew his knees up to his chest, in a mirror of the way Seunghyun had been sitting earlier. Golden-brown eyes peered out at Seunghyun from under his cotton candy fringe. “I’m Jiyong. What’s your name, ahjussi?”

 

“Seunghyun,” the man replied reflexively, slowly getting to his feet. Those eyes tracked him interestedly, the boy’s gaze moving up and down his body. Belatedly, Seunghyun realized he was still shirtless. He hastily brought his arms up over his chest, crossing them over his nipples in an attempt to hide as much as possible.

 

The boy laughed, a warm, high pitched little sound that echoed. “Don’t you think it’s a bit late for that, Seunghyun-ssi? I’ve been watching you the whole day, you know.”

 

“Well, you shouldn’t have,” Seunghyun snapped back. He determinedly did not think about the fact that he was now arguing with a ghost-boy that had--apparently--been perving on him the whole damn day. “That’s rude.”

 

“ _ You’re _ the one who was putting on a show in my living room,” the boy--Jiyong--replied merrily, smiling up at him. His eyes turned into little crescents, plump lips drawing back over pink gums. “I would never turn down the chance to see a handsome, shirtless man sweating all over my house.”

 

Rather flustered, Seunghyun cast about for a reply. What was one  _ supposed _ to do when faced with a lascivious ghost-boy with ridiculous hair? He hitched his arms up higher, trying to gracefully hide more of his torso.

 

Jiyong giggled delightedly at his expression, his head tilting back to expose a long, white neck. “Well, I thought it was good way to repay me for saving your life.”

 

“So that was you? When I fell?” Seunghyun asked, edging closer to the sofa in an attempt to retrieve his shirt. He had a brief thought that it might be better to stay away from the ghost, but honestly, the boy seemed harmless enough, and he  _ really _ did not want to be shirtless any longer.

 

“All me,” Jiyong said breezily. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

 

Seunghyun’s shirt was plucked up in one pale hand, and Jiyong quickly held it behind him, out of Seunghyun’s immediate reach.

 

Seunghyun scowled at him. “I want that back.”

 

“I’ll give it to you if you promise to stick around and talk to me instead of running away from the house.” Jiyong’s pretty mouth formed a frown, and a little line appeared between his eyes. “It’s been awhile since I’ve had company.”

 

“Sure,” Seunghyun gritted out. Where would he go, anyway? He could barely drive in broad sunlight in Gangnam, much less on country roads at night, with no streetlights. He’d take a night with a ghost over killing himself through sheer clumsiness. “Now give me back my shirt.”

 

“You have to promise me.” Jiyong held out his free hand, pinky extended, an expectant look on his face as he blinked up at Seunghyun.

 

Seunghyun didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He was half-sure this conversation wasn’t even happening in reality. “How am I going to pinky promise you? You’re a ghost, remember?”

 

Jiyong huffed, his cheeks blowing up like some sort of pastel-haired, otherworldly chipmunk. “If you close your eyes, you can feel me.”

 

Seunghyun gave him a dubious look. “That doesn’t sound right.”

 

“It’ll work!” Jiyong insisted, wiggling his pinky impatiently. “Do you want your shirt back or not? Just close your eyes and pinky promise me.”

 

Seunghyun heaved a sigh, but complied, shutting his eyes and carefully extending his hand, pinky out, in the vague direction of Jiyong. He felt an echo of a sensation, cool, light fingers at his wrist, repositioning his hand, and then his pinky was curling around Jiyong’s, skin slip-sliding against something soft and cold, like silk and snow. A frisson of unease careened down his spine.

 

His eyes sprang open, unsettled, to the view of Jiyong nodding to himself in satisfaction and tossing the shirt at him, hitting him in the chest. Seunghyun caught it instinctively, and hastily slipped it on, fingers clumsy on the buttons as he did it up.

 

Jiyong watched with interest, legs crossed and chin propped up on one hand. As soon as Seunghyun finished and stepped back a bit, putting more distance between them, the ghost smiled brightly and sprang to his feet, soundlessly, closing the gap again. His grin only widened at Seunghyun’s morose expression.

 

“So what do you want to do now, Seunghyun-ssi? You promised me all night.”

 

\---

  
_ to be continued… _

**Author's Note:**

> Heehee! I’m really excited about this story, and will hopefully put up another chapter soon. Pls hold for Jiyong gleefully annoying/seducing Seunghyun and probably spying on him watching porn. Like all ghostly housemates should. Also, for anyone who cares, the sofa is a Le Corbusier design, assembled by Cassina, and it’s the LC2 Petite Modele three-seater in white ;) #sofagoals
> 
> Just started using [@_fivespice](https://twitter.com/_fivespice) on twitter for nefarious gtop purposes if you want to check it.


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